Don't Look Back
by kinkybootbeast
Summary: Follow one survivor's journey through a stage-five apocalyptic world. The dead walk, the living die, and the world is falling to pieces. Has she come this far just to be devoured?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_2015 A.D._

_Hidden Location_

_South America_

"We should cut our hair again. It's getting too long," murmured Roux, pulling at a stray lock of her own as she stared into the permanently dirty hand mirror. There was no point in trying to clean the glass – if they were going to put that much effort into cleaning, they would just do the katana again.

There was no reply, so she started again. "I said–"

"I heard you," said Mat quietly, still unmoving from his position, even to look at her.

"Then why didn't you answer?" asked Roux, getting up to peer over his shoulder, out at the cold dark night. He stood in front of the sniper tower window. It wasn't a chilly night – in fact, it was quite humid. "We need to talk, to-"

"Keep sane, I know, human contact, etcetera." He turned to flash her a brief, tight smile. "Now shut up, you're going to attract something. The wind carries."

Roux kept from getting angry. She was still getting used to Mat's solidly survivalist, almost condescending mannerisms towards her. In fact, all of them still treated her like she was new, despite the fact that she'd been residing there several months already – almost a year – and also that she'd already proven herself an asset.

Suddenly Mat pushed her down and blew out the dim candle. His rifle was on his shoulder in a flash, night vision scope to his eye. Roux didn't even hear the moan change pitch before the soft thud.

"I'm willing to bet it was just a stray," Mat whispered to her. "All the same, be on guard, and wait a few hours before you get out there with Sapo for disposal, all right?" Mat let out a breath and reloaded the sniper rifle. "Tell Magpie to shut off the generator again if she's running it. And wake up the others. Hurry."

Roux nodded. They'd been using her for a silent alarm for ages, but her heart still pounded furiously against her ribcage as she stumbled from the room. It was the first spotting in at least a few months.

She found Mag fast asleep, a cloth stuffed lightly in her mouth to muffle her loud snores. Roux nudged the young Hispanic woman with her toe and she started at once with a snort.

"_Dónde está el fuego_?" she said wildly, still half-asleep. Then she saw Roux through half-closed eyes and straightened.

Roux hushed her. "Mat's got something down," she briefed. "Be on alert and turn off the generator. Is it on?"

"Yeah, yeah, I was just charging the walkies," she yawned, pulling herself to her feet. "There is only one?"

"Better safe than sorry," Roux shrugged. "Probably a stray, but still … gotta take precautions."

"I'm on it." Magpie whispered. "Why do these things always happen on my off-time?"

"There's no such thing as off-time, Maggie."

Roux turned to the next room to wake the others, when there was a small crash behind her.

"Sorry, sorry!" Mag hissed, gathering the swords that had fallen from their secure shelf when she staggered into it. Roux sighed. The walls were thick and built well enough that it mostly likely wasn't heard from outside, but Mat would have her head for it.

She turned into the next room. Caída and Donovan were strewn over the floor, Fats slumped against a wall, while Sapo and Duck talked quietly in a corner. The two looked up as she entered, and Duck's grin slid off.

"Mat's got another one," Roux whispered, nudging Caída and Donovan awake. They both started instantly. Fats took a little more nudging, but eventually they were all geared and heading to their posts. Roux stopped Duck from heading off with Caída, kneeling to look at her face-to-terrified-face.

"Hey, it's gonna be fine," she whispered, putting her hands on the little girl's shoulders. "We'll all keep each other safe, huh?"

"I know," the little girl sniffed. "I just … I'm scared, Roux."

"Oh, come here." Roux forced a smile, and gathered Duck into her arms. "It's probably nothing, okay? We're only taking precautions. Just in case. We've seen barely anything for months, right? Why start worrying any more now?"

"I know," Duck whispered again. "But … I can still hear them. At night."

Roux closed her eyes. "We all can, baby." She pulled away and looked into Duck's young eyes, which held much too much pain and wisdom for their age. "I won't let anything happen to you, okay, kiddo?"

She sniffed again. "Okay."

"Now go catch up with your auntie."

Roux sighed as she watched the eight-year-old stumble off after Caída, her longish curls trailing after her. They'd all definitely need to cut their hair after alert that night.

She hurried up the steps back to the sniper tower. Swinging open the door, her heart stopped.

"Where the hell have you been?" Mat demanded, reloading his weapon. The eerie, horrifying moans floated up from the ground, clear as day. A lot of them. Roux hurried to the window, looking down.

Outside of the three sturdy perimeter fences surrounding the fortress were dark, misshapen forms, staggering and clawing at the chain-link fence. The tower was high enough up that she could see they crowded around one spot, but also seemed to sense human presence in the building.

"Who was the idiot who made that crash down there?" Mat hissed, furious as he fired his shots. His anger threw off his shooting and Roux saw him miss, time and time again.

"It – it was me, Mat. I'm so sorry, it was dark, and–"

He hissed a bad expletive, and then sighed. "Damn it all, Roux … Well, no time for sorry now, just get your ass down there and help them fix it. I'll do my best from up here and the other tower. Go!"

Roux started and hastened back down the towers. She heard Mat muttering the worst curses he could think of under his breath and she winced. If they ever made it out of this one alive, he would slaughter her.

"I thought it was a precaution!" Fats hissed at her as she passed him.

"It was, aren't you glad we took it?" Roux elbowed him and kept running, "Mag! Stations!" she said as loud as she dared into the generator room.

"I thought it was only a precaution," she looked alarmed.

"Well, it's not anymore, go!"

She found Caída at her post outside, overlooking the situation with her own rifle fitted into the reinforced opening in the first wall, at head-height.

"I sent Duck up to the safe tower and told her to pull up the ladder," Caída informed her. Determination flooded her face and left no room for worry about her niece. It was a weakness that she'd learned to overcome years before. Personal feelings only got in the way when you were fighting.

"It was a man," she continued between silenced blasts. "The first one that Mat got – it wasn't one of them. His blood is everywhere, though – must have called over everything in the area – and then their wails only called more over – and that crash told them we were here – fuck, I hate these things–"

Through the crack Roux saw her hit head after head, all of the creatures going down instantly. And yet more kept coming, they weren't stopping … she wondered what Duck was seeing from the tower – a huge swarm? Or did it only seem like a lot from ground position?

She left Caída for the watchtower on the primary wall, scaling quickly. She didn't even need to reach the top before she gulped and almost fell off of it again. It wasn't miles and miles of them, but it was a larger horde than had ever attacked yet. She felt faint at the thought of the disposal of all those bodies.

Because they'd survive. She wouldn't even let the thought of losing get into her head, because then it would happen. They could do this. It was only a few dozen more than they'd dealt with before.

…Then again, though … they'd just lost Caleb and Juniper in the last battle, and the two had been the top hand-to-hand combaters out of all of them. Any little mistake could…

Roux wouldn't think about it. They'd make it just like every time before.

That incessant moaning, though … she dug in her pocket for her earplugs. They muffled the wailing and she automatically felt a little better.

The crowd of undead wasn't much bigger than those she'd made it through on many occasions in previous years, and on her own, too. For three long years she'd been on her own. Three. Long. Years.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

_2011 AD_

_Whitehorse, Yukon_

_North America_

The red emergency light flashed through the cabin. It flashed and flashed, not showing any intention of stopping. The glow illuminated the anxiety on the young man's face as he looked over at Milla for instruction.

"What's wrong with the plane?" he asked, looking almost panicked.

"Engine shut-down," Milla replied, not missing a beat. She adjusted her headset. "Calm down and assess the situation. What do you do first?"

His breathing became labored. "I don't remember."

"Think."

"Brief the crew and passengers," he said automatically.

Milla gritted her teeth, becoming restless herself. "No passengers or crew. What's next?"

Moments passed.

He blinked rapidly, sucking in air. "Thomas!" Milla said sternly, snapping her fingers in front of his face. They were losing altitude slowly.

"Um, um … control. Directional control." Thomas looked at her for approval.

"Don't just sit there gaping like a fish! Do it!"

Face red, he did as he was told. "And … BCPGF … power is next…" he muttered to himself.

This time he needed no prodding. Milla nodded as he produced the correct results, pressing switches, pulling handles.

"Uh, um…"

"Thomas!"

He gave her a helpless look and she sighed, listing the remaining procedures as she took control back. The plane pulled back to the correct altitude.

Milla made an exploding noise with her mouth and clapped her hands once as Thomas took his controls again. "Bam," she told him. "You're dead, and so are the two hundred odd passengers on board."

Thomas was silent. "Come on!" she shouted at him. "We've been through this a million times. Aren't you even studying the procedures at home? Do you want to be a pilot or don't you?"

He nodded. "I do."

She looked at him seriously. "Then do it. I'm not always going to be here to bring the plane back up, you know."

At the best of times she was a harsh teacher, she knew, but it was the only way they'd learn. She reached to flick on the red light again. Thomas groaned.

"What is it this time?"

She thought for a minute. "Propeller overspeed. I'm relinquishing all control now. Go."

A headache was coming on.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, Beaker?"

Milla gathered the little boy in her arms and set him on her hip as she dug pajamas out of his drawer. His skinny arms slipped around her neck. "Have you seen Scooby? I can't find her."

She laid a kiss on the top of his blonde head. "She's probably running around somewhere, enjoying the free life," Milla assured him, giving him a squeeze. "Daddy and I couldn't find her for the first five years we had her. She always turns up, though. Dumb old cats."

Smiling, she rolled Riley onto his racecar bed. He shimmied out of his jeans and she dressed him.

"I hope she comes back," he yawned.

"She will." Milla kneeled to peek in his bookshelf. "Shall it be Dr Seuss tonight?"

"No," he said. "Um … Grimm's."

"Again? Don't you want a happy story tonight, Beak?"

He grinned his devilish little grin and nodded his head. "Sleeping Beauty!"

Milla shook her head as she pulled Riley into her lap. "Alright. _The Sleeping Beauty _… Long ago there lived a King and Queen who said every day, 'If only we had a child!' But for a long time they had none…"

"So Marian gets home tomorrow," Milla told Dominic from the bathroom, running water over her toothpaste before brushing. "Mff-mmm-mffgh, mmh-mffg mhhm."

"What's that?"

She spit in the sink. "I invited her over for dinner."

"You can't cook," came the reply.

"Thanks, darling," Milla stuck her toothbrush in the cup on the counter, and slung her robe over a chair as she moved to the bedroom. "She's my sister, she won't care if I make something typical."

"Sandwiches?"

Milla threw her slipper at him. "Sexist husband. I was thinking pizza. Then Riley can help." She grabbed the remote and turned on the television, pausing to take off her other slipper before sliding under the coverlet.

"Did you hear what happened at Riley's school today?" Milla said conversationally as she flipped through the channels.

"No, what?" asked Dom, kissing her hair and turning a page of the paper in his hands.

"One of his friends bit the teacher. Just _bit_ him. There was even blood." She shook her head. "It's terrifying, that's what it is. How kids can be such brats."

"Mm."

"What're you reading that's so interesting?" Milla cuddled up to him and peeked at the paper. "Briefing: Africa – top secret?" she read, looking up at him. They're sending you to Africa?"

"I don't know," Dom sighed, seeming distracted as he peeled off his glasses. "I just got the briefing today. They sent it to all the higher ranks. I might not have to go if they have enough men."

He fluffed his pillows and wrapped Milla under his arm. "What's in Africa?" she asked, watching the TV but not paying attention.

"Some kind of biological warfare, possibly. Or just a virus. It's blurry right now." He gently kissed her. "Don't worry about it, Mil. They probably don't need me."

"Not as much as I do, anyway," Milla smiled. Dominic looked at her and she chuckled. "I mean, Riley and I would be living off of peanut butter and jelly if it weren't for you."

He grinned. "You mean to say you only need me for my food?"

She nodded with a big smile as he flipped her on her back. "And your money."

"Of course. And you don't need me for anything else?" He moved his face an inch near hers and she bit her lip.

"Not a one," she teased.

"All right." He jumped away and grabbed a blanket from the floor. "The couch it is."

"No, come back, Dom," she beamed. "I love you."

Suddenly he was there again. "I love you, too," he whispered, and put his lips to hers. Milla threw her arms around his narrow shoulders and kissed him back. She felt his soft, smooth skin against hers and held him more tightly, trailing her fingers along his bare back, over the light battle scars. He smiled at the tickling sensation and ruffled her hair, when she froze abruptly.

"Wait-" she said, sitting up and staring at the television.

"…_was murdered today in an unexpected, brutal attack by his neighbor, Jane Heron_,_" _read the news anchor._ "Mark Radcliffe had sought medical advice from the young nurse, when suddenly, she claims, he turned on her in a vicious manner. Sergeant Dunham, however, believes her story unlikely, as Miss Heron has a record of unprovoked violence in the past. Police arrived on the scene as…"_

"Oh my God," Milla said, moving closer to the picture. "Dominic, that's Riley's teacher, that's Mr Radcliffe. I just met with him last week and … oh, God…"

"That's terrible … what happens when his students find out?"

"We can't tell Riley," Milla said automatically. "He's only in kindergarten … he'll never understand…"

"_In other news, hikers Michael Harris, Rita Hornblende, and Donna and Terrance Foster went missing last week in the northern British Columbia area. If anyone has any word…"_

"If I had a pancake, I'd eat it with butter, I'd eat it with syrup, I'd eat it with a fork," sang Riley, stabbing his utensil into the flapjack and picking the whole thing up. "Oh, pancakes, pancakes, eat 'em with a fork, pancakes, pancakes, don't be a dork. Pancakes, pancakes, pancakes-" he stuffed half of it into his mouth- "Pancakes!"

"Very nice, Ri," Milla tried to keep from smiling. "Don't sing with your mouth full."

"Okay," he said remorsefully, swallowing the mouthful before picking up his singing again.

"Hey, beautiful," Dominic greeted as he sauntered into the kitchen, planting a kiss on Milla's cheek.

"Hello, also beautiful," Milla grinned, putting a pancake on another plate for him.

"Yuck," Riley said quickly before stuffing his mouth again.

"Mm, your specialty dish." Dom adjusted his glasses before scooping his butter. In a second he had half of the pancake in his mouth. "Delicious."

"Hey!" Milla smacked him. "You're teaching your son bad habits."

"Can't help it, honey, I've gotta run," he shrugged. "Love you."

"Where are you off to?" Milla asked suspiciously.

Dom looked at her in a strange way, swallowing his food. "They're opening CFS Whitehorse again. I'll be in charge."

"You didn't tell me that," she beamed, and then faltered. "Why are they opening the station?"

He hesitated. "Nothing bordering international emergency, just sort of … precautions."

"Against what?"

"They haven't told us exactly what yet," he said. "That virus thing, I guess."

Milla pursed her lips. "All right. Marian's going to be here at five. Don't forget."

"Do I ever?" he smiled charmingly.

"Yes, always," she kissed him. "I'll take Riley to school then."

"Thanks, hon. Love you."

"Love you too."

Milla couldn't help but have a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The army station had been closed for more than a decade now. If they were opening it, it had to be trouble.

She heard the front door close and turned to see Riley's big, innocent eyes staring at her. Milla shook off the feeling and smiled. She was being stupid.

"Wanna play hooky today?" she asked the little boy. An immediate grin swept over his face and he nodded wildly. "All right, grab your pilot's hat and we'll go."

He went from zero to ten in three seconds as he ran off to his room. Milla chuckled. She loved that boy.


End file.
